


Goodbye To A World

by OneThreateningAcronym



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Spoilers - No Mercy Route, and sad, gender neutral chara, gender neutral frisk, no one dies technically but they sort of do, this gets very meta towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:28:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneThreateningAcronym/pseuds/OneThreateningAcronym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though it’s the end of the world, you only have yourself to blame.</p><p>----</p><p>Frisk is determinedly stubborn. Chara is determinedly patient. How far would you go to reset a tragedy?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dark. Overwhelmingly dark.

It was always dark here. No matter how many times Frisk wound up in this place between timelines, the ever-stretching void was a constant; lonely, silent, and dark going forever as far as you were willing to walk. This time was different. The darkness was heavy, stifling almost. Frisk felt like they were drowning in it as opposed to just standing there. Or perhaps that was just the weight of the sins they’d accumulated leading up to this point, pressing down, making it hard to breathe… Frisk suppressed a shiver and inhaled shakily, suddenly keenly aware of the amount of dust clinging to their skin.

“Cold?” this was yet another difference from every other visit. A voice, too loud for such a quiet place. Too chipper considering the circumstances. Too unwelcome, Frisk thought, and unwanted. Frisk barely glanced in the voice’s direction and made a point to continue staring at a point in the shadow’s they’d decided to fixate on. They could almost hear the voice pout, “Ugh, you’re so boring…” the voice complained, accompanied by another, smaller noise that sounded like a child stomping their feet.

It was, in fact, another child here with them. Childlike in appearance, at any rate. The innocence associated with childhood was long gone from this self-proclaimed demon, after all. Chara still seemed to enjoy putting on the act. They played the part especially well, really. With adorable rosy cheeks and a 100 watt smile they could almost pass for an angel… if that smile wasn’t accompanied by the unfortunate demise of whoever happened to see it. This was a fact Frisk knew all too well. Their face hurt even at the thought of smiling. Their face hurt still, anyways, from all the smiling they’d done already.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” Chara prompted after a moment, tone impeccably polite and light, but still managing to slither into Frisk’s ears from across the void. When Frisk refused to indulge them with a response, Chara continued, “I can wait as long as it takes. There’s nothing for you here. You know that. I know that. You’ll get bored, eventually. And when you do…” Chara trailed off into a whisper, but sounded so close that Frisk could feel their breath on the ear, “...That deal is still on the table, Frisk.”

In a flash, the presence and voice were both gone, and Frisk was alone again in the loosest sense of the word. They could still feel the slime in their ears associated with that voice, and knew if they turned around, there would be a smiling face waiting to greet them. They refused to turn around. In reality, Frisk wasn’t sure how much they were capable of moving. Their legs trembled under their own weight where they stood; like damaged support beams barely holding up a structure that might as well have been condemned. Frisk absently noted how apt a comparison that was. As much as Frisk wanted to sit down and rest after the entire ordeal it took to get here, they refused.

Chara was determinedly patient. Frisk was determinedly stubborn. They were stuck in a stalemate until the other’s determination faltered and, perhaps unluckily, they were both especially determined individuals. And their determination had certainly gotten them both pretty far so far, hadn’t it? It had gotten them up the mountain, through the Underground through hoards of monsters…

… and landed them here.

Frisk’s gaze never wavered from its chosen in spot in the dark to stare at. If nothing else, the stare grew more intense as the seconds ticked by, even if time was relative in an abyss like this. It was just that intense. The weight of the void settled on them again as silence found its bearing once more, and Frisk mulled their choices over. Not that they had a lot of choices. Chara had made sure of that. Really, even calling it a ‘choice’ was stretching the definition of the word. Frisk’s skin crawled at all of the implications their decision could carry into the next world if they went through with it. Nothing good would come of whatever they did.

Either they both stayed here, forever, and let the ruins of the world they left behind try and recoup….

...or they gave their SOUL to Chara so they could reset one last time, back to before anyone had to die. Before anyone had the chance to die.

Frisk raised a hand to their chest; shaky and hesitant, and still gritty with the remains of the fallen. They could feel it through the fabric of their shirt: the beating of their heart, the pounding of their soul. The very culmination of their being, as someone had once referred to it. Could they give something so important away? For the chance to redeem themselves? For the chance to see everyone again, alive and well? To undo everything they’d done, all the damage… was it worth it? Frisk didn’t know. It just seemed too good to be true.

And deep inside, they knew it was. This could only end badly, but their choices were limited. At least, mercifully, they had all the time in the world to think about it.

\----------------------------

Time continued to pass in whatever way it could.

Somewhere, on the edge of their hearing, Frisk heard Chara flailing up a tantrum as their patience thinned.

It filled them with determination.


	2. Chapter 2

Frisk played scenarios out in their head to pass the time between weighing their options. In general, it was also just a good way to pass the time, though time didn’t really seem to move here. They imagined hanging out with Papyrus again like they had in a previous SAVE, which led to an entire mental adventure involving all of the people they’d come across in the Underground. Just themselves and this large group of loveable monsters together, enjoying each other’s presences and feeling happy. Feeling safe.

If Frisk tried hard enough they could almost hear Papyrus’s indistinguishable laughter and Undyne’s triumphant yell, smell Toriel’s cinnamon-butterscotch pies wafting through the air and wrapping them in a hug while Asgore and Alphys quietly spoke over tea and giggled about anime.

They imagined themselves out in the sun playing with the monster child they’d tried to kill, worry free and happy. It smelled like fresh grass. Frisk felt warm and content. It was a beautiful day outside, really. Birds were singing happily in the trees, flitting to and fro between the branches as they watched the children below. Flowers were blooming beautifully in the crisp, fresh air of the surface and soaked up the sun like it was going out of style. On days like this, it was great that kids like them…

_On days like this, kids like them..._

Frisk winced and gasped, feeling a pang of blue in their soul as they were wretched from the fantasy world they’d crafted for themselves. Tears stung in their eyes and they let their head hang. Maybe if they tried hard enough and hid, they could go back to that place. As if that world would shield them from facing the reality of where they actually were. They were, very suddenly, very, very **cold**.

_… should be burning in hell._

A giggle echoed somewhere in the void that was all too familiar, grounding Frisk back to where they were and making them hyper aware of themself. The overwhelming darkness surrounding them. The soul hammering in their chest. Every speck of dust that clung to their skin, making their hair just a shade lighter than it should have been. Every scar and every place there should have been a scar. Every regret sticking to the insides of their ribs that made it hard to breathe, made them want to cry at the unfairness of it all. They could feel every single one of their sins crawling on their back. Frisk shivered as goosebumps erupted unsympathetically on their skin.

They wanted to see everyone again. They wanted to apologize until their throat was raw.

Frisk felt their determination waver.

 

* * *

 

“What’s so interesting over there?” Frisk doesn’t need to look to know that Chara’s standing directly behind them, probably with their head tilted in mock curiosity. Frisk could feel that insincere smile directed at the back of their head from anywhere in the void. Seemingly still not disgruntled by Frisk’s never ending silence, Chara’s bright inquiries continued, “You’ve been looking over there since we arrived. Are you expecting something to happen? Is there something over there you’re not telling me about?”

Chara spoke with the intense curiosity of a child who had just discovered the word ‘why’ and their voice rang loudly in Frisk’s ears, which had grown accustomed to the silence the abyss of time provided. Determined as Frisk was to ignore them, Chara was determined to keep themselves entertained for however long they were going to be here. It was for that reason, Frisk could imagine, that Chara walked around them and skipped along the line of Frisk’s vision towards the horizon.

“It’s right here that you’re looking, right?” Chara asked, staring directly back at Frisk. When no response was given, Chara simply shrugged and hopped a few steps backwards, pointedly maintaining eye contact, “What about right here? It’s here, right? Frisk?” Chara’s smile widened a fraction. Their eyes stayed trained on Frisk; wide, innocent, and as red as the blood they found joy in spilling, “You’re going to have to talk to me sometime, Frisk. We can’t make that deal if you’re not willing to talk,” Chara took a step to the side and directly in the center of Frisk’s line of vision. Frisk’s brow wrinkled in confusion and they wondered what point the demonic child was trying to make.

In an instant, the two of them were nose to nose and Frisk found themselves staring in Chara’s unblinking eyes, “But I got you to look at me, so that’s a start, isn’t it?”

Frisk very much wanted to tell them that, _no_ , forcing Frisk to look at them _wasn’t_ the start of _anything_ , but stubbornly kept their silence. Chara, seemingly satisfied, danced around them triumphantly on their way back to their spot of choice somewhere behind Frisk and settling again. Silence hesitantly crept back into the area, seemingly unsure at first if it was welcome, and finally made itself at home again in the familiarity of never ending nothingness. Frisk appreciated it’s company in the wake of whatever had just happened.

Warily, Frisk’s eyes trailed back to the spot they’d chosen to fixate on for the duration of their stay here. Nothing had changed, but somehow it seemed… tainted, darker somehow now that someone like Chara had forced their presence there. Frisk knew it was just their imagination, but they couldn’t shake the feeling. But they refused to let Chara ruin this one thing that they had left in the world. So Frisk steeled themself and took a deep, calming breath, and let their eyes relax on that one spot in the dark.

They were filled with determination.


	3. Chapter 3

While they had the chance, Frisk took a moment to reflect on everything that had led up to this point, with the overwhelming darkness of the void as their witness.

They could almost hear the drone of Sans’ voice going through his usual spiel in the Final Corridor, like their own personal shoulder Sans. … Actually, Frisk had a feeling, a personal shoulder Sans would spout off nonstop puns rather than anything remotely serious or useful. It was still an amusing thought. Frisk felt that under different circumstances they could have laughed at that. Now was not the time, however, and so Frisk got back to business, forcing themself to concentrate.

Frisk judged themself. Every action they’d taken along the way through the Underground and every EXecution Point they’d accumulated, willingly or not. All of the pain and suffering they’d inflicted. They judged themself for the dust that clung to them like a second skin. They judged themself for how empty their hand felt without a knife in it. The capacity they had to hurt… their Level Of ViolencE. Even now they could still feel the elation that came from those numbers increasing, and the shame that settled in their stomach like Papyrus’s spaghetti for enjoying that feeling.

Frisk looked deep inside themself.

They knew that on the way here, they hadn’t done the right thing. No matter how many resets they did, they would never be able to forgive themselves for what they’d done. They couldn’t fix it, not really. Things carried over through resets. There would always be reminders, no matter where they went or what they did. And that was without getting into the details of what selling their soul could do. The ramifications of what that really meant. There was no doubt in Frisk’s mind that no matter how cheerily the offer was delivered, Chara’s intents could only serve to further the suffering they craved.

Selling their soul was not an option. Frisk didn’t want the second chance, anyway.

But staying here, in the abyss of time… that wouldn’t solve anything, either.

Even if Frisk didn’t deserve a happy ending, that didn’t mean that all of their friends should miss out on all of the possibilities it entailed. They all deserved to live out their hopes and dreams far, far away from the walking calamity that was Frisk. They deserved better. They deserved someone better than Frisk for deciding the fate of the world, that was for certain, but that was beyond the realm of possibility. Someone who’d fallen so far from where they began,and still hadn’t hit the bottom…

What would they do now?

What _could_ they do now?

Absently, and a bit hypocritically, they thought how much easier this would be if they just started again from scratch. Back to the start of the very first timeline, before anything had had the chance to go wrong. To take themself out of the equation entirely and scrub the bloody stain that was Chara out of the universe, and start fresh in that field of flowers that was oh so familiar to them now. It felt so long ago, now, the very first time they’d fallen down into the Underground. How innocent they’d been, unaware of what they were capable of. Back when they’d trusted the whisper in their mind, fallen for the cheerful lies and lost themself to the haze of dust and violence.

How differently would things have turned out, had they ignored that voice? How different would things have been had Chara’s determination not beaten their own in intensity? Could they have gotten the happy ending that everyone deserved? It was a wistful thought that nonetheless made Frisk’s chest feel a little lighter.

Wistful and sadly unrealistic, they knew.

But Frisk clung to the thought as a faint memory resurfaced, filled with a maniacal cackle, and their mind began racing with possibilities. Possibilities that filled them with what they could only hope was hope. Filled the air around them with a lightness that eased the weight of the abyss off their shoulders, if just a bit. It seemed so obvious in retrospect; a third choice they hadn’t really known was among their list of choices. But something they’d seen done before. Even as they tossed the idea back and forth in their mind, Frisk doubted it could be possible. But they weren’t deterred. The slim chance that they could save everyone, and undo all the wrong they’d done… the chance at a happier ending…

The spot in the darkness that Frisk had taken to staring at flickered with light.

They were filled with determination.

The determination that they were capable of anything.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but I wouldn't mind a tiny shoulder Sans. Maybe a matching shoulder Papyrus. Puzzles and yelling on one side, puns and incidental music on the other. How sweet would that be?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you look at that, stuff seems to be happening! We're reaching the end, folks!

“I’ve made a decision.”

Chara looked expectantly towards the quiet, wisp a voice. Frisk turned to look at them, now, their face set in an expression of unwielding conviction. Their stare was still just as intense as it had been and even the growing wattage of Chara’s smile didn’t diminish it. In fact, the determination in Frisk’s gaze only seemed to grow stronger as Chara looked them over, victory shining in their eyes as their patience finally paid off.

“So you finally decide to talk,” Chara observed brightly, swinging their arms back and forth and rocking back and forth on their heels. As opposed to Frisk’s forced stillness, Chara couldn’t seem to stop moving. They were too excited, it was obvious in every wild gesture they made as they spoke, “Told you you’d have to, eventually. I know it’s not fun to be wrong, but I’m glad you came to your senses. I was getting bored.”

Frisk didn’t reply to that. Chara shrugged as if expecting nothing less from them and traipsed over to where Frisk stood waiting, taking all the time in the world with each and every step they took. Frisk’s eyes stayed trained on Chara the whole journey over, both knowing that the walk was more for show than anything. A victory lap, so to speak. Frisk could practically feel the smug sense of triumph radiating off the smiling demon as they danced their way over.

With a small flourish Chara came to a stop just under an arm’s length away and held their hand out invitingly. Frisk didn’t move. They looked from the hand to its owner, instead. It was almost like looking in a mirror. A child so like them in appearance, with the notable differences being their laughing, red eyes and not a speck of dust on their body as opposed to themself. Themself, with tired eyes and skin that would never be clean again. Before them stood a child with different aims and different goals, each and every single one of them bad. Frisk felt anger boil in their blood and their whole body shook with the effort it took not to punch the smile off of Chara’s face. It wasn’t the pacifist thing to do. Instead, Frisk clenched their fists and remembered what they were doing this for. Who they were doing this for.

Slowly, they raised their own hand up. It wobbled as it moved, weak from disuse and hanging at Frisk’s side, but it kept moving regardless. Chara watched it hungrily and practically bounced in place. This was what they’d been waiting for! Finally, the chance to play the game again, to destroy everything in their path. What would they do, this time? Would they back-stab Toriel in the middle of sparing her? Would they take singing lessons with Shyren? The possibilities were as endless as the excitement that radiated from Chara as, at long last, Frisk’s hand became level with theirs…

…and kept moving past it. Chara’s smile dimmed faster than the lanterns in Waterfall and a frown, beyond all odds, managed to pull at their lips. The glee in their eyes gave way to confusion as their eyes followed Frisk’s hand, higher and higher until it came to a stop above their heads, stretching upwards as far as Frisk could reach. The pose seemed vaguely familiar and sinister.  Slowly, Chara turned their gaze back to Frisk with the silent question of ‘what?’.

“My hand is down here,” Chara pointed out, and Frisk could hear annoyance on the edge of their carefully crafted cheer. “Unless you’re expecting me to reach up there to make this deal. I can compromise,” Chara shrugged.

“I’m not making a deal with you, Chara,” Frisk stated, quiet and blunt.

“Of course you are,” Chara insisted, hand still outstretched even as their patience began to wear thin. Frisk could tell without looking that Chara was barely concealing the anger they knew they were capable of and took silent joy at that, “You said you made a decision! You’re talking to me!”

Above their head, Frisk flexed their fingers, feeling a familiar tingle in their fingertips, “I did make a decision. I decided I don’t feel like playing by your rules anymore.”

Frisk watched as Chara’s face went from scrunched up confusion to a very familiar, eerie smile, “You still think you’re in control here,” phrased as a statement, not a question. Chara’s voice was too sweet, like they were talking to a child who’d misunderstood what they were being told, and Frisk felt a chill go down their spine, “That’s cute, but I’ll hear you out. Whatever idea you’ve cooked up in your head is bound to be entertaining,” Chara tilted their head at an angle that looked quite painful, and smiled a patient smile as Frisk’s cue to continue, “Soooooo?” they sang, “How are you going to do it? How do you plan to play by your own rules?”

Frisk, for the first time since entering the abyss of time, closed their eyes. And they concentrated.

“Is that your master plan? To sleep?” Chara egged them on condescendingly, “We both know that doesn’t normally work out well for the sleeper.”

Frisk thought back to the ruins where they’d first met Toriel, and the fun they’d had playing in the leaves…

“Or are you trying to become a statue? That seems counterproductive.”

Frisk thought back to the warmth of Toriel’s home and how cute it was and the spider donuts that had preceded it, and to the conveniently shaped lamp just outside the ruins…

“Or do you plan to hi-five me into submission?”

Frisk thought of Snowdin and the friendly monsters there. They thought of the peaceful ambience of Waterfall and the makeshift stars on the ceiling full of wishes, and the pond outside of the Blook estate. They thought of Temmie village, and then disregarded it for the better.

“...You’re not actually going to do anything, are you?”

They thought of the wind howling as they fought Undyne and thought of Alphys’s lab in the Hotland, and what laid below it…

“I’m getting bored, Frisk,” Chara complained, sounding far less than amused.

They thought of every table and every mouse, and every piece of cheese that had yet to be obtained. They thought about the Core and it’s whistling steam and its grinding gears, and about the elevator guarded by Mettaton. They thought of the replica of Toriel’s home and Sans passing judgement, and the door right before the Barrier leading to the Surface. They concentrated on the feeling they remembered associated with all of those things, and they held onto it.

Frisk opened their eyes and stared directly into Chara’s impatient stare.

Frisk was filled with determination.

Light erupted from Frisk’s hand, bright and blinding in stark contrast to the overwhelming darkness that surrounded them. It was like they held a pulsating star in their hand. Frisk watched the irritation on Chara’s face morph into a range of several different emotions; first surprise, second disbelief, before it finally settled on barely concealed panic. They tried to play it cool, but Frisk could hear it in their voice. They were scared. For the first time this entire conversation, Chara was standing perfectly still.

“Your… determination. That’s your big plan?” Chara asked mockingly, somehow managing to force their smile back into its rightful place. The demon raised a skeptical eyebrow, “What are you going to do with it? You can’t load any of your files from here, or reset. I told you already: there’s nothing for you to go back to. _We **d e s t r o y e d**  it all_ , remember?”  Briefly, Chara’s voice lost it’s charm, but they seemed to pay it no mind. Frisk steeled themself against what they knew was coming.

“You’re right,” they admitted. They felt their arm going stiff from being held up so long, but ignored it. If they were doing this, they were doing it right. If they listened hard enough, they could almost swear they heard their friends’ voices cheering them on, “There’s nothing for us here, or anywhere. Nowhere in this universe at least…” they watched Chara’s face as very brief bemusement crossed it and tried to ignore the fact that the demon’s facade was beginning to melt, “And there’s not anything I wanted to go back to. Not with you along for the ride.”

Chara’s eyes grew impossibly wide, the pupils vanishing as their face began lose its shape and their smile growing almost cartoonishly big, “You can’t get rid of me, Frisk.” A statement of a fact, said without a hint of doubt and an uncanny gleam in their eyes, “There’s not enough determination in the world to keep me from possessing you again and again wherever we end up. It doesn’t matter if it’s this timeline or another, you’ll never be rid of me…” Chara trailed off, their face giving the idea that they were glancing downwards. It was hard to tell as their face lost cohesion. The ground at their feet had begun to glow and Chara took a hasty step back.

The source of the glow was rectangular in shape, stretching across the void like a large rug. Words and numbers covered it, escalating and changing as the moments ticked by, but only two words mattered out of all of them mattered.

 

> #### SAVE FILE

 

Frisk watched Chara do what could only be described as a double take before realization settled into their melding facial features, quickly followed by dread. They looked up at Frisk with murderous intent in their eyes replacing any semblance of civility, “You’re bluffing,” Chara stated.

“I’m not,” Frisk responded seriously.

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” Chara challenged, their composure becoming less defined by the minute and their childish form dripping into puddles at their feet.

Frisk felt the power of their determination running through them, “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“I don’t think you do,” Chara insisted, taking a shambling step forward. Frisk stood their ground and it seemed as if they entire abyss trembled, “You know you’ll die, don’t you? No, worse than that. You’ll have never existed. Everything you know will never have existed. You won’t just be destroying me. You’ll be wiping every single trace of this game out of the universe…”

Frisk took a heavy, measure breath. Small fractures weaved through the save file, stretching out like one of Muffet’s spider webs towards the rest of the void, “That was the idea.”

That was all the prompting it took. Chara let loose an ear shattering, inhuman shriek and lunged at Frisk. Feeling stronger than they ever had before in their life, Frisk took the manifestation of their determination and threw it down at the save file as Chara crashed into them. Frisk grit their teeth as the pair of them crashed down, pain radiating over their entire body. Absently, they could feel a knife stabbing into their chest with angry fervor, but it didn't matter now. Time, however it moved in this strange abyss, seemed to freeze. Like the universe itself was holding its breath for what was about to happen. Frisk inhaled shakily, and a little too wetly, and hoped with the last of their strength they were saying this right, "In the words...of a very wise skeleton..." 

_“Get_

_dunked_

_on...”_

Everything began happening at once. There was something that sounded almost like an explosion, yet more similar to the sound of a dropped glass. Deafening beyond all measure and inescapable. The results of Frisk's determination were instantaneous. Fissures and cracks exploded into existence going on into forever through the void; coming together in their destruction as everything that ever was and ever could be shattered. Light seeped in from nowhere through the cracks, cutting through the darkness as it tore the abyss of time apart. It was overwhelmingly bright. Like the dawn of a new day.

Frisk barely had time to feel victorious, but felt a smile tug at their lips. A natural smile that, for the first time in ages, didn't hurt at all.

 

 

 

 

> #### FILE DELETED

 


	5. > INSTALL SOFTWARE: UNDERTALE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! More of an epilogue, of sorts, even though it's the longest chapter of the whole story. Thanks so much for reading!

 

 

 

> ####  NEW GAME > START

 

 

Frisk shuffled out of the Ruins somberly, still feeling the ghost of a hug around their shoulders. A hug they’d wished could have lasted just a little bit longer. Frisk sniffled quietly and rubbed at their stinging eyes.  Tears made tracks in the soot and dirt on their face, caused by a mixture or regret and fear, and homesickness for a home that wasn’t really theirs. They hadn’t wanted to leave the Ruins. It was safe there and the monsters were nice, if shy in some cases. Toriel, especially, was too kind. But deep in their chest, Frisk knew they had to go. It was a gut feeling they’d been unable to ignore, despite their best efforts. Maybe under different circumstances… no. Frisk wouldn't let themself get stuck on such a wistful thought. It wouldn’t get them anywhere, and they needed to get going. If they’d have known it was going to be cold and snowy on the other side of the door they would have asked Toriel for a sweater before they left.

It was too late now, though.

With a heavy sigh, Frisk wrapped their arms around themself and began shuffling through the snow, feeling it seep into their socks and prick at the exposed skin of their ankles. Frisk was absolutely not dressed for this weather. They continued onward, though, fueled by a determination they didn’t realize they were capable of. That same determination had gotten them through the Ruins and given them the strength to stand up to Toriel, and Frisk was sure it would get them somewhere warmer if they just set their mind to it. That was how this worked, wasn’t it? Frisk laughed quietly at their own flawed logic.

The bridge they came up to was odd looking, for certain, with a strange wooden structure that looked a bit like an oversized fence. Frisk stopped to admire the craftsmanship of the behemoth.

“Hey   **h u m a n** …” Frisk froze, and it wasn’t just because of the below freezing temperature they were standing in, “Don’t you know how to greet a new friend?” Frisk shook their head wildly in response to the scary voice’s question, but was too scared to move, “Turn around… and shake my hand.”

Trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm, Frisk forced their feet to move, turning in a slow half circle to meet the shadowy figure behind them. They saw the hand waiting for them expectantly and Frisk had half a mind to call Toriel for help. Instead, they swallowed their nervousness, and carefully took the figure’s hand in their own to shake it.

_frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrt_

Never let it be said that Sans didn’t know how to make a first impression.

Their first conversation was brief, made up mostly of introductions and giggles on Frisk’s part, and the plotting of a prank against Sans’ brother, Papyrus. Frisk was beyond happy that the first face they met upon exiting the ruins was a friendly one, and it eased some of their uneasiness. They wondered a little how exactly skeletons could be related, but then remembered that they were talking to a skeleton in general, and chose not to question it. Likewise, Frisk also decided not to question why Sans went to complete opposite direction of where he said Papyrus was. They had a feeling life would just be easier for them like that. Feeling much lighter, Frisk began walking with renewed vigor and a pep in their step towards their next adventure.

 

* * *

 

Sans took his time walking back to the door at the end of the path, listening to the crunching of excited footfalls as the kid went in the opposite direction. He’d catch up soon enough. And even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like he had anything to worry about. The kid was harmless and Papyrus wouldn’t hurt a fly; it was like they were destined to meet each other. Well, if the kid could stomach his brother’s spaghetti, that would at least be a start. Destiny could be flexible like that, couldn’t it? Sans couldn’t help the small chuckle that echoed through the woods at the idea of it.

The door was exactly how he remembered it: very closed, and very much refusing to open. That wasn’t what he was looking into, curious as he was to see what was on the other side. No, he had other official business. Sans scanned the surrounding area slowly, eyes flitting around searchingly. He could have sworn he’d seen something when the kid had come out… _ah, there it was._

Almost as easy to miss as Shyren was, sitting in the snow off to the side of the path, in the shade of the overhanging trees. Sans could barely make their silhouette out amidst the snow and could only guess at reasons for their literal transparency. It was like he was looking at a ghost. The skeleton eyed the figure for a moment before shrugging. His slippers crunched loudly through the snow when he decided to walk over and investigate further, hopefully alerting whoever it was to his advancing presence. The figure didn’t budge.

Sans crouched down in front of them to try and get a better look at their face, “Bit cold out for you to be sitting all the way out here, ain’t it?” he prompted casually. The transparent figure jumped and looked up sharply at Sans. Their eyes met and Sans immediately knew that this was a lot more out of the ordinary than even _he_ was used to dealing with, “Huh. Coulda sworn I just sent you to meet my brother, kid.”

The shell of a soul looked at Sans with wide, frightened eyes, and opened and closed their mouth like they were trying to find the right words to say. After a few seconds of gaping, they settled on, “You… you can see me…”

Their voice was quiet, wispy like the wind that blew through the trees on this part of the path. It sounded strained, like it hadn’t been used in a while, and more than anything it sounded tired. It was a stark contrast from the voice that had come from the same, much less transparent face Sans had left at the bridge. If Sans was feeling gutsy, which was hard due his skeletal status, he’d hazard a guess that appearances were where this kid and the kid they’d parted ways with ended.

“I can see you,” he said affirmatively, watching the shock in the kid’s eyes fade into something close to relief, and few degrees off of resignation,  “And I just saw you a little bit ago, actually, going the opposite direction. Mind explaining that?”

The child shrugged, an unhelpful kind of shrug that reminded Sans a bit of himself, “Time shenanigans?” the child replied after a moment, sounding unsure themself. They fiddled nervously with the tattered remains of their striped shirt for a few moments while they pointedly avoided Sans skeptical stare.

Sans grin widened a bit in response, but came off more as threatening than friendly, “Well goods news for you, huh? I’m all about time shenanigans.”

The child laughed at that, a choked sound that resembled their voice and sounded nothing like the childish giggles that had exploded from his whoopie cushion gag. Sans eyes narrowed at the kid suspiciously as they spoke again, “This is probably even too complicated for you, Sans.”

“...Funny, I don’t remember telling you my name,” the skeleton said after a moment, his voice low. Dangerous, almost, but the kid just looked at him like… Sans almost thought they were looking at him like an old friend.

“It was awhile ago,” they supplied helpfully, with what looked like a weak smile pulling at their lips. They shrugged again, “You wouldn’t remember.”

“Because of time shenanigans?” Sans asked.

“Because time shenanigans,” the child replied with a nod.

“Well isn’t that something…” Sans commented with a sigh, scratching at his skull. The skeleton shook his head sadly after a moment, “It’s too bad. You seem like someone I’d like to get to know.”

The smile fell from the child’s lips and Sans knew he’d struck a nerve, “No… no, it’s best you don’t,” the said, as if that was the only explanation that was needed. Sans was going to need more than that, “You should focus more on befriending the kid that looks like me you met. The one who came out the door. It’ll be important.”

Sans felt like he was missing something. It left an uneasy feeling in his chest, “Got it,” he said anyway, watching a smile come back to the kid’s face. They looked much better with a smile on their face, Sans thought. He gave a thoughtful hum. The child looked at him curiously, and then in surprise as he sat down to join them in the snow, sitting cross-legged across from them. He set his elbow on his knee and let his chin rest in his bony palm, his eyes not moving from the ghost of a child sitting across from him, “But I still wanna know what’s going on with you, punk.”

The child stared at the skeleton for several seconds, and Sans could almost see the wheel turning in their brain as they tried to figure out how they wanted to react. It was kind of comical to watch, honestly. They seemed to decide on silence for the time being and looked away, eyes hidden by a curtain of uneven bangs. Which was fine, really. Sans was a patient guy. He could wait until they were ready to talk. If there was nothing Sans enjoyed more, it was doing nothing, and this wasn’t a half bad spot to do nothing in. The door was always pleasant to look at, and the snow shimmered beautifully in certain areas where--

“....‘m...moly.”

Sans hadn’t thought that this kid could speak any softer. And here they were, proving him wrong, “What was that?” he asked, leaning forward to try and hear them better, “Didja say your name was Molly?”

The child shook their head and took a breath so deep it took seemed like their body might not be able to hold it. The child sighed. Their fists clenched and unclenched at their sides in the snow, and they spoke again, with clearer intent, “I’m an… anomoly, I guess, is what you might have called me. A time anomaly.”

If Sans had eyebrows, he would have raised them, but his skull gave the impression of that expression just the same, “That so,” the child nodded, “Well, that’s certainly something I’d say is up my alley to talk about. Gonna guess it has something to do with that kid?” another nod, and Sans felt like he was making good progress, “Thought so, the way you followed them out and everything. So why ya sitting out here instead of tagging along with them?”

Silence filtered between them again, but Sans had a feeling it was just because this… anomaly, as they called themselves, needed the time to think. They looked about ready to fall over; like it was taking all the strength they had to make themself sit upright. Sans wasn’t sure he wanted to try and guess what their story was. If the look on their face and the state they were in was anything to go by, Sans could only imagine the tales this child had to tell, the experiences that had left them this way. Not to say he wasn’t curious, mind you. Frankly, Sans was interested in hearing as much as they were willing to tell. But he wasn’t going to push if the kid didn’t feel like giving.

“I used the last of my energy to get here… to protect them..,” they began slowly, voice growing ever quieter, “And I can’t move anymore…” They spoke with palpable regret and Sans felt a pang of pity for them, “I wanted to stay with them… a little longer, but I guess this is fine too. I got further than I thought I would, at any rate...” they murmured, glancing up the path where their mirror image had long gone ahead.

Sans followed their gaze, a frown tugging at his teeth, “Who’s that kid to you?” he asked, glancing at the anomaly out of the corner of his eye, "Why are they so important?"

The silence didn’t last as long this time, and Sans followed the anomaly’s lead as they turned their head back from the path, “They’re who you guys deserved.”

Sans’ eyes crinkled a bit at the sides in bemusement at the cryptic answer he'd received, “You lost me, kiddo.”

The child shook their head, “It’s probably better you don’t understand,” they replied, “I’m just glad to see they’ve got a chance.”

“...A chance for what?” Sans found himself asking, before he even realized he was speaking.

The anomaly smiled again. It was a soft smile, devoid of any weariness or regret. It was a smile filled with hope and, for the first time, Sans could say that this child was a spitting image of the one that had exited the ruins. As they spoke it was almost impossible to tell the difference between the two of them, “A chance for a happy ending.”

There was emotion those words that Sans couldn’t identify. A meaning he was missing, and he was sure he wasn’t feeling the full impact of what was being said. Despite that, the words still struck him close to the heart, and it seemed like the anomaly’s hope was contagious. Even if he didn’t understand, he shared a smile with the shell of a child, and they smiled brightly back at him. Their eyes glittered like the ceilings in Waterfall. As a whole, though, they faded even more into nothingness. Their smile fell away as well within seconds. The child looked away and the stars in their eyes died, “I’ll have to say goodbye soon…”

“Goodbye? Isn’t it a little early for that?” Sans asked, not quite pleadingly, watching closely as bits and pieces of the child began to vanish completely. One of their hands went first, and the effect slowly began to consume the rest of that arm. Without either of them realizing it their legs had already disappeared. A profound sadness struck him, and he didn’t understand why, “I mean, we just met, kiddo. I was hoping to at least try a few jokes on you before we parted ways.”

The anomaly only cracked a smile in response, and it held no joy to it, “I’ve heard them all already,” they assured the skeleton. Sans felt anything but assured by that statement as more and more of the kid fell away to nothing, “But the kid who looks like me is going to love them, I promise.”

Sans’ smile fell as the undeniable fact that this child was going to disappear finally settled in his mind.  He sighed and gave the child an appreciative glance, trying to force a grin back onto his face, “Well, that’s good to know. Glad there’s someone who likes my material,” they only nodded at that. Sans scooted across the over until he was sitting next to the vanishing child, who was now barely visible against the snow. It was hard to look at, “I feel like there’s a lot you’re not telling me, kid.”

“Because there is,” they responded after a second or two, sleepily. Sans appreciated their honesty. Their eyes began to drift shut, “I told you… it gets complicated.”

Sans snorted, “Hey, I’m a big skeleton, I could figure it out.”

The anomaly’s shoulder’s shook, and on the very edge of his hearing Sans swore he heard a laugh. As it happened, shoulders up were all he was still able to see of the kid now. Sans knew their time together was running out, and the anomaly seemed to understand that, too, “You should go… I’m not gonna be here much longer.”

Sans shrugged and moved to nudge their shoulder with his own, but found no collision there, “I’ll follow suit after you,” he responded, “I don’t have anywhere important to be anyways.”

He thought he heard a hum of a response, but the anomaly was so faded now that their voice wasn’t coming across. Sans had to strain his eyes to even make out their outline against the tree. It was a pitiful sight indeed. Seconds ticked by idly and Sans closed his eyes, pretending that he could hear the breathing of the entity next to him. Questions buzzed unasked on the tip of his tongue and he regretted how little time they’d had to spend together. More than anything, he wished he knew what had happened to this child that made them ok with disappearing like this. What had happened that had led them up to this point?

Sans doubted he’d get an answer to that, even if they had all the time in the world.

A voice trickled past him on the breeze, lighter than a snowflake, and the skeleton almost passed it off as his imagination. He knew better, though.

_“Thank you, Sans…”_

When he opened his eyes, Sans was sitting alone outside of the door to the ruins. Going by appearances, it seemed like he had been for the past several minutes. Sans sighed a defeated sigh.

The skeleton shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and stood up, not bothering to brush any of the snow off of himself. The chill felt it was the only thing grounding him right that second. He paid once last glance to the vacant spot by the tree, eyes lingering as a twinge of a feeling began to prickle in his ribs. Slowly, Sans raised a hand to his chest and laid it on the fabric. He could feel the pulse of his soul, the drumming of magic on his fingertips. An indescribable feeling stirred in his bones that made him shake. It was if the air surrounding him was charged with it, surrounding him.  Urging him forward.

It made him feel light. It made him feel breathless. It made him feel like he was capable of doing anything.

More than anything, it made him feel like he was not alone.

“Hey, kid…” he asked the empty air, eyes trailing away from the snowy ground. He looked around at the fog drifting through the tree branches and the snow that danced on a wayward breeze up the path without a care in the world. Somewhere just on the edge of his hearing, he could hear Papyrus’s excited voice shouting about puzzles.

“Is this what you humans call ‘determination’?”

 

* * *

_Thank you, I'll say goodbye now_

_Though it’s the end of the world, don't blame yourself_

_And if it’s true, I will surround you and give life to a world_

_That's our own_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired partly by, and named after, the song "Goodbye To A World" by Porter Robinson. 
> 
> It started out as more of an apocalypse sort of story, dealing with how Resets affected the world that was being left behind, but I ended up changing it along the way when I remembered something I'd read about how the only way to completely nullify a No Mercy route was to completely delete your save and all traces of it. And I figured, "well, if Flowey could delete a save file, why couldn't someone else give it a go?". I almost renamed the story "Loophole", but decided against it. I'm not entirely sure where along the way this became an introspective Frisk fic, but that's what happened. And so here we are xD
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stuck through to read this little 4 am plot bunny. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
